Buried Under the Wallpaper

The old Avenida Cafe in Coronado was scheduled to fall under the wrecking ball until one of the workers noticed the strange blue coloring behind a falling layer of wallpaper.

As he peeled away the wallpaper, a work of art was revealed before his eyes.

He had found the last of three frescoes painted at the cafe by Mexican muralist Alfredo Ramos Martinez. Though the building was demolished in 1995, the 1938 mural--a still-life of enormous callas, Casablanca lilies and other flowers with a dark-blue background--was removed to be restored by Nathan Zackheim, who has worked on other Ramos Martinez murals. The restoration was paid for by the developer, and the still-life was unveiled to the public last month, four years after its discovery.

“Naturaleza Muerta” is now on display at the Jack Rutberg Fine Arts gallery on La Brea Avenue as part of a show featuring the works of prominent Latin American artists.

Ramos Martinez (1872-1946) was one of the pioneers of Mexico’s mural movement, but he is not as well known today as his contemporaries Diego Rivera, David Alfaro Siqueiros and Jose Clemente Orozco. Ramos Martinez, who was older than the other three muralists, was Siqueiros’ teacher at the art academy in Mexico.

His work, often painted on wet plaster or newspapers, evoked his native Mexico and its indigenous influence. At the Avenida Cafe, which was across the street from the Hotel del Coronado, the fresco was probably behind the bar, according to the artist’s daughter, Maria Ramos Bolster.

Although it measures only 5 feet by 7 feet and is perhaps not as important as his larger, complex scenes, it is an example of Ramos Martinez’s evocative style. “These murals at the cafe were very colorful and symbolic of Mexico,” his daughter said. “I thought this one had been lost.”

The cafe’s other two murals, which were still visible on the walls, were also removed in 1995 and restored at the developer’s expense. One was donated to the city of Coronado for its library and the other was sold to a private collector.

The Fresco Weighs More Than 1,000 Pounds

Although documentation showed the existence of the third panel, nobody could find it initially because it was hidden behind two pillars and thick 1950s-style wallpaper.

The developer, sensitive to the murals’ value, alerted workers about the missing third one. After so many years, with the restaurant passing through countless owners, dozens of renovations and layers of wallpaper, it is remarkable that the mural was retrievable.

“This is not merely painted on a wall, but it was done in the fresco tradition, where the artist painted into the wet plaster,” said Rutberg, adding that the fresco weighs more than 1,000 pounds. “Had it just been painted on the wall, it might not have been saved.”

Born in Mexico, Ramos Martinez studied in Paris for 14 years, initially under a scholarship funded by William Randolph Hearst’s mother, Phoebe Apperson Hearst. Hearst had been invited to a state dinner by then-president of Mexico Porfirio Diaz, who had commissioned the young artist to design the dinner invitation cover. Impressed with the design, she asked to meet the artist and decided to sponsor his stay in Paris for the training that was de rigueur for artists of that era.

When he returned to Mexico in 1910, the country was in turmoil. Within a few years, he was appointed head of the National School of Fine Arts and was instrumental in advocating a return to Mexican aesthetics and a noninstitutional approach to art. In the early 1920s he established the Open-Air Schools of Art in Mexico City, advocating that artists should paint their surroundings rather than copy material and techniques from textbooks.

But just as the muralist movement was catching fire in Mexico, Ramos Martinez moved to Los Angeles, where he became a staple of the California art scene. The move was prompted by hopes of curing his daughter, Ramos Bolster, who suffered from a disabling bone disease.

He was represented by one of the city’s premier galleries, the Dalzell-Hatfield Gallery in the old Ambassador Hotel, and his work was exhibited at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art and sought by the likes of Alfred Hitchcock, screenwriter Jo Swerling and costume diva Edith Head. His murals graced the walls of chapels in La Jolla, Santa Barbara, the Chapman Park Hotel in Los Angeles and a serene garden at Scripps College in Claremont.

His artwork in California evoked nearly mythical images of the Mexican peasant and Mexican sensibility, unlike the European-influenced work he painted during his years in Paris and even in Mexico.

“The very fact that my father was able to come to this country so many years ago in the midst of the Depression and was able to feed his family by just selling his paintings is quite an incredible story,” said the artist’s daughter, Ramos Bolster.

But when he died in 1946, his legacy seemed to die with him.

Muralist Was Eclipsed by Other Artists

“What happens to Ramos Martinez is what happens to many Mexicans who come here; he was totally erased from Mexican history,” said art historian and critic Margarita Nieto. “Also, in the decade of the ‘30s, a lot of people came to Los Angeles from the Midwest. These were folks who did not want to have anything to do with this city’s Mexican history or this city’s past. Today we ask ourselves, ‘How could it be that this man was so important and nobody knows who he is?’ ”

His star was eclipsed by the other muralists, like Rivera and Siqueiros, whose art and politics kept them in the headlines.

“My father was of a different temperament,” Ramos Bolster said. “He was quiet and kept to himself.”

But interest in Ramos Martinez resurged during the 1990s in Southern California with the restoration of his 100-foot nine-panel flower vendor mural at Scripps College and with gallery exhibitions of his work.

In 1991, L.A.’s Louis Stern Fine Arts organized a Ramos Martinez exhibition that traveled to Mexico, and the Bryce Bannatyne Gallery exhibited a mural painted for Swerling’s home in Beverly Hills. Last year, Louis Stern presented a retrospective of the artist’s work.

Bannatyne has not found a home for the gigantic Swerling piece, which was removed from its original setting in 1991 and is now in storage.

“Who wants 10,000 pounds of fresco?” Bannatyne asked.

* “Latin American Paintings, Drawings, Prints and Sculpture,” Jack Rutberg Fine Arts, 357 N. La Brea Ave., (323) 938-5222. Ends Friday.